


Coffee Date

by Lorelai



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Coffee Shops, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Marcus is bae and deserved better xoxo, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelai/pseuds/Lorelai
Summary: Reader works at a café and things have been hectic this Valentine's Day... Could a cliché chance encounter turn things around? Snowy days sure call for pancakes, don't they? Gender-neutral reader.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader, Marcus Pike/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Coffee Date

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in many years, and the first to be posted here. Hooray! It was really fun to write, and I hope to bring someone else joy with this tooth-rotting, absolutely self-indulgent drabble that got a tad out of control. Began writing this on Valentine's Day, to fill the boyfriend-shaped hole in my heart (1 year of severe social distancing has been hard, folks...). Anyway, please let me know if I made any mistakes, and thank you for being here!  
> Enjoy!!

**✧- COFFEE DATE -✧**

Valentine’s Day. This year, it fell on a Sunday. You hated everything about it.

It messed with your usual shift, messed with the supplies, messed with the drip drop Sunday influx of customers that usually strolled in, no previous consideration at all, just strolled in coaxed by whatever hot, caramel-saturated beverage was featured on the display outside. It even messed with your carefully cultivated Retail Smile: you felt your cheeks tense up with the effort to keep your expression as unobtrusive and pleasant as possible while you answered the (approximately) billionth phone call—

“No, ma’am, I’m terribly sorry but we don’t take reservations. Yes, ma’am, you’ve already called. No problem! Not at all. Have a nice day!” The billionth. Give or take. Anything from queries for hosting 30-people speed dating events (in a small café with less than 10 tables) to requests of personalised, pink cakes.

No, this wasn’t the holiday for you. You didn’t know what it was, if the chill of mid-February, if the general silliness the holiday authorised, or if the promise of uncomplicated sex at the cost of a coffee and a small pastry, but something in the air made everyone act more _persistent_ than normal. Doggedly so, even. Everyone wanted in, everyone seemed to have an agenda today, and by god! they would see it to fruition even if they wreaked chaos in your little corner of that particular well-lit, flagstone lined, pedestrian street.

The street did look lovely outside, if nothing else was to pick up your mood. The café’s front windows were decorated with small, pink string lights, and beyond that there was the soft glow of the afternoon light reflecting off a thin layer of snow. After you set down what was hopefully that shift’s last cup of cocoa in front of the last dewy-eyed couple, you flashed a tired smile at them and permitted yourself to scoot discreetly towards the biggest of the windows. You stood quietly, tray resting easy along the side of your body, and breathed in one, two times, free hand coming to rest at your hip. The flakes had been sauntering down slowly, but steadily, since the morning, and captured the already waning light in a way that made it look relaxing, entrancing, almost... ok, you’d admit it. Magical. It tricked you into thinking it was so much brighter out than it really was, even as you saw the yellow lights already on inside the buildings opposite the café. The snow had almost covered the flagstones, but here and there a patch of black, wet stone still showed under it, giving the ground a sketch-like, unfinished look. The crowd inside the café radically contrasted the dwindling numbers of people walking outside, and you imagined most of the usual flock of pedestrians had already perched themselves in _or_ were on their way to whatever place they chose to spend the holiday. You couldn’t wait to be one of the people walking slowly and carefully by on the frosty pavement, winding down from the busy day, maybe stopping near the stone benches in the middle of the closed-off street to look at the sky.

Just like that man in the black trench coat was doing, you noticed vaguely. His head was turned slightly up, eyes glued to what you could only imagine was the cloudy sky. Was the sun already down? Were the clouds white and grey, mirroring the sketchy ground? Or were they pink and fluffy, as everything else on this tiring, disruptive day? You weren’t sure; you couldn’t see it from where you stood, so you chose to keep observing the man. He stood very still, a gloved hand raised to the green scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, gloved fingers resting idly on it, seemingly captured in the middle of movement. Your eyes slowly raked up to his face, trying to focus on details from so far away, but all you could see was his sharp profile and the little puffs of air he breathed out in the cold. Why was he st —

“Hey! There you are. Why are you staring out the window? Sharon says she’s got everything under control, Vince just got in too, we can go now.” Your co-worker’s voice yanked you from the snowy world outside with a violence completely opposite her light touch on your arm. You turned to her, startled.

“Sorry! I was just..." you took a glance at your wrist watch. Ten minutes after the end of your shift.

“Yeah, Vince was late. Again.” she grumbled under her breath, trying not to disturb the costumers sitting around you. “Come on, I’ll wait for you while you get your coat.”

She led you back to the bar, turning back at you with a sly grin. “Sooo, V-Day, huh? Crazy busy this year!” Oh no. You knew that face. You’d worked with her long enough to know that face meant she was bent on getting juicy gossip from you. Thankfully, you two had been busy enough that you managed to avoid more than just idle, short conversations throughout the day, but you’d been dreading that face and the question you were sure would follow. You answered a quick affirmative and popped into the back room to get your things. Carol went in as well, instead of waiting patiently by the cash register. You tried to divert her attention while gathering your coat and bag: “Do you even like Valentine’s Day? I mean, after so many years in a relationship. Haven’t you already done it all?”

“No way. Yeah, we don’t do the traditional stuff anymore; restaurant, flowers, the whole thing, but it’s still very nice.” Your gloves were on, one of them having nearly fallen to the floor in your haste, but all was in its place now. “We’ll cook something fancy, drink some wine, you know, _do the do_. Spend some time together. But never you mind that, how about you? Do you have a daaate?” The elongated syllable was not enough to contain all the malice and excitement she injected into the four-letter word.

You were halfway to the door by then, having said your quick goodbyes to your other co-workers behind the bar, and you stopped for a beat to look back at her as she interrupted herself to do the same. As soon as she caught up with you, your gaze flashed to the door, suddenly too flustered to tell the truth. It was silly, really, but after being surrounded by lovey-dovey couples all day long you were starting to feel a bit left out. Three years single and counting.

She tutted your name softly, a hand going into her purse and rummaging around for something. “What’s that? Do I sense some embarrassment? I knew it! You’re hiding a date from me, spill it. I knew the grumpy, anti-Valentines front was all a bluff. Hang on, I forgot my charger.” As she clacked her boot heels swiftly back to the break room, you took the opportunity to breathe in deeply and make the rest of the distance until the exit, standing in a small space between the glass door and an umbrella rack. No need to leave the toasty air inside yet. You turned your eyes to the direction of the bar, and the back room, raking your brain for ways to let down Carol’s expectations as gently as possible, quickly going over all the jabs she could tease you with, and how you’d respond. In no time you saw her skittering around the tables again towards where you stood, so you lifted your hand to the door handle behind you without looking, so used were you to the position of everything in the coffee shop. You pushed the door out, still looking at Carol down the small distance between you, and started a phrase you never got to complete.

As you opened your mouth to speak and turned your head in the direction of the chilly, outside air to step out, you saw only a flurry of black and green in front of you instead of the snow-covered pedestrian zone. It made you stop in your tracks. After the brief, but interminable stretch of time between near collision and startled recoil, where realisation is but partial, you stuttered an apology without completely absorbing what for. You didn’t collide with anything, anyone, apparently, at least you didn’t feel it. You heard a muttered apology mirroring yours and the mass of green fibres — soft? Threads. A scarf — backed a step away. A coat, a person came into focus. The low, hurried “sorry” had grounded you, drawn your gaze up into a pair of shiny, dark brown eyes, under eyebrows shot up in surprise. A man. Softened features, relaxed but confused, black mustache over slightly parted lips. Scruff lining his square jaw. A green scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, no gloved hand resting idly on it, this time. A previous scene flashed across your mind. Sharp profile, looking up at the sky.

“You!” the exclamation passed through your own lips rather forcibly, before you could check it. It made his head tilt a bit, the crinkles around his (lovely) eyes became more perceptible as he squinted, disoriented.

“Oh, you sly thing!” Carol’s voice sounded right behind you. Your head shot back towards her. “I knew iiiiiit. Is this your date?” The biggest of smiles, Carol had. Your eyes shot back to the man just as fast as they’d left. Your fingers still grasping the door bar tensed around it, your mouth went lax and opened a bit with the impulse to say something, but nothing came out. You just stared at him. Petrified. His eyes — dark, so so shiny, you could only think about how warm they looked, even here, surrounded by coldness — held a glint of confusion, and slid quickly from Carol to your face. Something he saw there made his expression set, his eyebrows return to their usual place, and his gaze travelled softly down, down all the way to your lips, like he was waiting for you to say something to fill in that absurdly long beat. _He must think we’re crazy, I can’t say “no” why can’t I just say it? Say “no”, say something, say anything!_ , echoed your frenzied mind when the glint of confusion in his gaze was replaced by something else — Amusement? Bashfulness? Hopefully not annoyance — and he stepped a bit to the side, still holding down your stare. Oh. You were supposed to step out of the shop. You had yet to come out. Yes. You took the silent invitation, and what he did next made you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were still holding. He turned to Carol, offered her his hand, and then offered her his complicity in this Valentine’s Day scenario she’d invented for you.

“Hi. I’m Marcus.”

She stepped out to join you and shook hands with him daintily, shooting you her most knowing, malicious look. The door closed with a definitive thump, sealing you all in this absurd situation. “And here you were, hiding him from us. Wouldn’t work anyway if he was coming to pick you up right under our noses, would it? Silly.” Her giggle could have killed you right then and there. You looked back at him, apologetically, hoping you could somehow communicate to this complete stranger that you _weren’t_ being a creep. Not knowingly, at least. Why was he playing along? Saving face for you like this? He smiled at you, a gentle, soothing smile, all crinkled eyes and white teeth. He had a dimple too. Oh god, _he had a dimple too_ , just the one, there on his right cheek, just by his mouth. You blinked quickly a couple of times and focused your eyes again on Carol, who was already starting to walk away:

“Well, I won’t keep you. Tell me everything later, ok?” she called, turning on her heels to look directly at you as she walked backwards for a few paces. “And behave, kids! Nice to meet you, Marcus.” A goodbye wink. It sent a shiver down your spine. What _was_ this situation? You remained silent as she made her way down the block, not really noticing your shoulders went slack until the muffled thud of your bag falling onto the snow snapped you back to the problem at hand. You dipped hastily, gathered the straps of it into a disordered bunch and somehow shoved your arm through them until the bag was back at its proper place. All of a sudden, you could speak again.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry about this. I don’t know what came over me, I couldn’t contradict her! This is so weird. Too weird.” This time, once you started, you couldn’t stop. “Holy shit, why must Carol be up in everybody’s business like that all the freaking time? And wasting a costumer’s time at that. I can’t believe it. Too weird. Hi, um, M-Marcus, right? Welcome to the café. Our service is not like this every day, I’m sorry. We were clocking out, she was pestering me about dates and whatnot, I didn’t know what to say.” Brows furrowed, you shot out your hand, which he took, and you shook it vigorously, your other hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair back into your woollen cap. His eyes followed your movement and you felt the back of your neck warm a little bit, but then he was smiling again, _and then_ chuckling breathlessly, no doubt overcome by the silliness of the situation, and so you relaxed. His smiles apparently came easy, and lingered for a while, you observed. Your own mouth tugged up a bit in a shy grin.

“Yeah, I, I-I understand,” he stuttered, “must’ve been embarrassing for you to stand there with no explanation while your date was, uh—“ he made a show of checking his watch and holding it up for you to see, “a grand total of _twenty_ minutes late! Disgusting! Men, these days. I’m sorry. Kept you waiting.” The mirth in his eyes made a big laugh erupt from your lips, and you leaned forward to rest your hands on your knees. You both laughed for a while, as a wave of relief rushed over you. You were really glad to not have freaked him out.

After the laughing died out gradually you straightened up, looking again at his face. You wondered... He let out a long, puffy breath — a sigh —, looked to the side for a second, and said:

“Well, uh... I was going into the café to get something warm and maybe, maybe something chocolatey. Is it?...” he hesitated, eyes scanning your face, “Is it too weird to ask you out for coffee when I don’t even know your name?”

It was your turn to sigh a little puff of hot air. Even as it was getting colder by the minute, you only felt warmer. “Oh yes,” you answered in mock seriousness, “very weird. The only way you could be weirder was if you spent the last minutes of your shift by the window, staring out at a—“ you wet your lips as a pause to gather courage, “at a handsome man who was looking so sweetly up at the sky, on a bitterly cold day.”

This got you another smile. He was certainly taken by surprise and looked down at his own feet for a moment, and when he looked back up you could have sworn his cheeks looked a touch flushed. “Is that why you said “you”? There, when we — at the door, you seemed to know me from somewhere.”

“Yes.” You held his gaze, his smile only grew. The lovely shine of his eyes was stronger than ever. You gave him your name, softly, and he answered in a low, smooth tone. “Nice to meet you. I’d... I’d love to know you more.”

“Me too.” You were now smiling fully at him, and your face felt like a furnace. “But... would you mind if we... went somewhere else, please? I mean, I don’t know if my co-worker will come back, who knows?” you pointed to where you last saw Carol. The movement, however small, seemed to have broken the spell that glued his eyes to yours; he shuffled slightly on his feet, and turned away from the coffee shop. He took a few hesitant steps and you followed. You two walked unhurriedly, keeping maybe an arm’s length apart.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem! You’d have to guide me, though, I’m new in DC... Do you like sweet stuff? Know any place around that serves pancakes, maybe?"

“Yes, and yes! There’s a good place just around the corner, actually...” you gave him a side glance as you walked and, from where you stood, you could see both his unwavering grin and his dimple. Just the one, there on his right cheek, just by his mouth. Maybe this was the holiday for you, after all.

-✧ — ✧-


End file.
